


Denial

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Castle Black, F/M, Half Sibling Incest, Lord Commander Snow, it's more delicious when they don't know, it's what this fandom was founded on, r+l equals J but they don't know that, shhh nobody tell them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29520141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Sansa watches his throat bob before he answers. “The Gods sent you to me,” he near whispers, eyeing her lips again. “What other reason d’you think they have except for me t’... comfort you?”To tempt us to sin. To ruin us.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 133





	Denial

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo.... this one shot was originally going to be part of an A-Z of one shots I was working on but as I came up with more and more ideas for the letters, there turned out to be about 3 or 4 ideas that really took my interest in terms of longer fics so I've decided to change my focus to those instead. This one would have been 'D is for Denial'...

Every word is only given grace to escape Sansa’s lips when parting from Jon’s kisses allows. “ _Tell me-“_ she starts, ducking down for another peck, “ _what we-“_ Jon surges up to swallow her words, as hungry as a starved wolf. “ _What we do here,”_ she tries again, pressing on before her lips simply _must_ meet his again, “ _with each other_ -” Sansa shifts herself in his lap so that she might better feel the effects of her being there. He pulls her down again for a quick taste before she retreats. She needs to get her words out - whether Jon wants to hear them or not. “ _What we do... will the Gods punish us for it?”_

He blinks up at her. Both of them light of breath. He makes her feel dizzy; he, with his battle-roughened hands and his tongue that slides against her own. Her Jon. Her brother.

They’d not meant to start doing this – this... ‘ _comforting_ ’ of one another that they do. But somehow this is how it is now, now they’re reunited at Castle Black. Sansa will give him the most delicious of kisses. It’s been ever such a long time since she’d experienced anything half as sweet. And Jon... Jon puts his hands to use in places that make her blush all while whispering words that somehow make her buck and writhe with such an acute divine craving, she becomes quite desperate with it.

Sansa watches his throat bob before he answers. “The Gods sent you to me,” he near whispers, eyeing her lips again. “What other reason d’you think they have except for me t’... _comfort_ you?”

_To tempt us to sin. To ruin us._

His lips are at her neck and she can feel the hypnotic swipe of his tongue on her throat – hot and wet and somehow making her rock her hips in his lap. His hands cup her behind through her skirts, urging her on. Sansa battles for her mind to stay its course.

“But they won’t punish us if... if we do... _things_... but my maidenhead stays intact?” He’s looking up at her again. Sansa bites her lip. “You are my brother but... it’s not wrong to... seek your comfort?”

With eyes that flash darkly. “Aye. It’s not wrong... what we do... if your maidenhead stays intact.”

A voice – very small, but insistent – starts whispering eerily from within Sansa’s skull.

_He’s your brother... of course it is wrong... disgusting... vile... Lannisters..._

Jon is staring up at her, watching her when his hand snakes up her thigh and cups her womanhood in his strong, warm hand. He traces the shape of her, the voice in her head getting further and further away with each stroke of his fingertip.

“I do not believe that the Gods will punish us for this,” he says, fingers working in slow circles to stir her up into a frenzy. “But if I am wrong, I should like to be granted one wish before my punishment.”

“What is it?” Sansa asks, panting, pliable and utterly his.

“To taste between my sister’s legs.”

Sansa goes on denying to herself that what they do in the Lord Commander’s chambers is any shade of wrong. That all it is is their own way of comforting one another.

But she finds no need to deny it when Jon sets his clever mouth to work on her womanhood. In those moments, Sansa no longer cares.


End file.
